One Night Drabbles
by rainypromise
Summary: Various scenes and situations between Natsume and Mikan where they meet at night...
1. One Night Only

_One Night Drabbles: One Night _

_Disc: Not Mine! Don't sue! Have no money!_

_A/N: I got this beta read by StarDrop...Thanks, girl! Good luck on your contest!_

We keep this secret in our blood.

No paper or letters.

We pass just close enough to touch.

We love in secret names.

We hide within our veins,

The things that keep us bound to one another.

Until the last resilient hope,

Is frozen deep inside my bones,

And this broken fate has claimed me,

And my memories for its own.

Your name is pounding through my veins.

Can't you hear how it is sung?

And I can taste you in my mouth,

Before the words escape my lungs.

And I'll whisper only once...

The Secrets in the Telling by Dashboard Confessional

------------------

Mikan watched the surrounding darkness warily. The sounds and sight of the forest that was usually friendly in the morning now took on a more forbidding cast.

Damn those stupid, stupid horror stories.

The sound of a broken twig caught her attention. In succession, she heard a heavy thud, a loud curse, and a flash of red.

It was the flash of red and the loud curse that did it. She squinted against the dark and saw the dark figure leaning heavily on a nearby tree, red eyes glowing in the shadows. "Natsume-kun. Is that you?"

After a moment of silence, she thought he wasn't going to give her an answer. _Big surprise_. Bitter and anger welled up inside her, surprisingly fresh, surprisingly huge. She started to turn away from those intense quiet eyes, but the low lazy drawl stopped her. "No, it's the ghost of Christmas past. What are you doing here, oujo?"

The nickname brought out too many memories and she didn't have the will or the time to dwell on it. Not with him standing in front of her with sharp eyes that could detect the slightest weakness in her. He'd sense it, hone in on it like a bloodhound, and then twist the knife a little deeper just for that extra bout of pain.

He was good at that.

She squared her shoulders. "I could ask you the same thing."

"Sneaking out to neck with Ruka?"

"Sneaking out to neck with Persona?"

"Low blow, Sakura." Her lips twitched, thinking of the wince that was sure to cross his face.

"If you can't take it, don't dish it out."

Because it felt like old times, she took a second to settle herself. A soft wind blew and she caught it, a scent that she once knew all too well. Blood.

It didn't surprise her when her heart still clenched with the thought of him hurting. "You're hurt."

Natsume huffed out a breath, not even bothering to curse. Not always the sharpest tool in the shack, but give her pain, give her feelings, and she'd sniff it out of you in record time. Silver outlined the dark as the moon came out of a cloud and he turned his head away from where he knew she was standing, looking at him with those big amber eyes.

He didn't want to look at her. "Go home."

"After I see how hurt you are."

"It's been taken care of."

He already knew her would-be-reaction to his lie before he heard the unlady-like snort. He tensed when he sensed her coming closer.

He didn't want to be near her.

"Go away." But instead of hearing her steps going further away from him, they moved closer. _Typical_, he thought, _she never did listen to a word I said_. "Didn't you hear me?"

"I heard you well enough. I said I'll go after I see how hurt you are. Didn't _you_ hear _me_?"

Touché.

He didn't remember her being so quick with words. Gods, how he hated her. He straightened from his leaning position, stood a little taller, and was gratified with the slight hesitation of her steps. "I can take care of myself."

"I know you can." _But do you?_

Natsume hissed when she stepped into a shaft of moonlight, illuminating her silhouette with silver. Pain lurched in his chest, lending urgency to his voice. "I said I'm OK. Leave me alone."

The rejection hurt more than it should have, but she couldn't help reacting to the pain in his voice. "You can't always get what you want."

"That's one thing that you never need to tell me, youjo. I know all about not getting what I want." _Remember?_

"Just let me take a look at it, and then I'll leave."

He didn't want her to touch him; he couldn't bear it. It would just be too much. "No."

"For God's sake."

"I said no."

A familiar feeling of frustration bubbled up inside of her. "You're bleeding."

"So?" He knew he was being unreasonable; he knew that he was even close to pouting. A sense of déjà vu hit him.

They stared at each other amidst the shadows and starlight.

Crimson met amber. She hated those eyes, but she couldn't fight the same words, the same gestures. Scenes from their earlier years flashed in her mind. "This is not the time to be stubborn."

"It's as good a time as any."

The forest was too silent, too still, and even the wind blew in silence. Like a scene from a fairytale book, the silver tinted darkness was as familiar as it was foreign. Like the man standing in front of her, staring at her out of strange red colored eyes. "Can't you just let me see it?"

"No."

Tired of him, tired of trying, tired of feeling tired, she yanked on his hand. Mikan swallowed a yelp when the world spun in front of her eyes as he slammed her against the tree that, just a second ago, he was leaning against. A large strong hand was wrapped around her neck, the length of its fingers and width of its palm was threatening. But she remembered its warmth. She knew those hands, those eyes, that face…not anymore.

"I told you to leave me alone."

Suddenly she felt like those words were not just referring to her persistence for aiding him, but to something else. "Yes, you did and we all left you alone. We did what you asked because you were our friend and we respected your decision. But I'm not your friend anymore, so I don't care about what you want. I am not going to leave until you show me that wound."

She kept her eyes on his, even as his fingers tightened on her neck, pushing her harder until the rough bark dug onto her back. But just as Mikan would've given up, he took his hand away. "Fine. Do whatever you want."

She blinked when she felt the hot pressure of tears at those familiar words, but she pushed them back. She had already cried too many tears for him, because of him.

He sat on the ground and lifted his left hand where high on his arm was a knife wound. Blood oozed from the wound, congealing on the skin around it.

She examined it expertly, years of experience rushing back inside her mind. She rummaged through her bag for a flashlight and a first aid kit.

He looked at it and let out a snort. "You still carry that stuff around?"

She opened the kit and pushed the flashlight to his hands. "Habit. Hold this."

He looked at it and her. "Why bother? I can light this place up better than that thing."

She looked at him sternly. "No. Hold it."

He looked at it, rolled his eyes, and then aimed the light on her opened first aid kit. "Oh yeah, I forgot about your 'only use your Alice as a last resort' ideal."

She pointed and he shifted the light towards his wound. "You of all people would be better off if you followed it."

She kept her eyes on his wound as she cleaned it, especially when she felt his eyes on her.

"You of all people should know that I don't do ideals."

"You used to have them."

"'Used to' is right." He leaned back on the tree and tore his eyes from her, willing himself to relax and to not be so aware of her.

"Am I hurting you?"

He wanted to laugh, but instead he kept his eyes away from her. "No."

_Yes, dammit! Yes, you're hurting me! What do you expect?_

"The wound is too deep. It'll need stitches." She pressed her lips together when a slim knife appeared in front of her face. She slanted her eyes to him. "What?"

She knew. She knew what he wanted her to do.

"I take it that you still know what to do?"

Their eyes met. In acknowledgment of their time together, in respect of what they once shared, in trust of what they were about to do. Even after all this time, even after all the unanswered questions and hurt, the tears and betrayal. It was still there, between them. Inside them.

It was so ironic. In their earlier years, they would've laughed their asses off. But now, there was only a big gaping silence.

Mikan wanted to hit him, to curse him. _How dare he? How dare he make me do this? How dare he make me remember? How dare he make me feel again?_ She wanted to rant and rave and rage, but all she said was, "I don't have a lighter."

He managed a sneer. "That's the least of my worries." He quirked an eyebrow at her. "You agree that this is a last resort, right?" He tossed the knife lightly, catching the blade instead of the handle. In no time, it glowed red and he held it out to her, frowning when she busily looked around. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to find something for you to bite on."

He scoffed, his manly ego dented. "Don't need it. Come on, I don't have all day."

"You should at least have something to distract you from the pain."

"What pain? Just do it." His impatient eyes shifted to her as she continued to dig through her bag. Her forehead wrinkling, her lips pressed into a tight line, her eyes dark and restless, her hair was falling over her face and shoulders to end well below her waist.

"You want something to distract me? Fine." He waited until her eyes shifted to his. "Kiss me."

Mikan felt a hand squeeze her heart and her hands paused inside her bag. "What?"

He kept his eyes on her face, and saw the shock blooming inside her eyes. His own face was unreadable. _She was always so easy to read_. "Kiss me."

She turned slowly, afraid that if she moved too fast, she'd undo everything that she had tried so hard to build. She saw his lips curve into a smile and glared at him.

"Serves you right if I take that knife and ram it into the wound."

Their eyes met in a battle of wills. "Do you want to? Here. Tonight, I'm all yours. Do what you like with me."

She looked at the knife in his hands, the blade still glowing with heat, and then lifted her eyes to him, but it was his voice that bothered her, how earnest and heartfelt it was. "That's not funny."

"Who's joking?"

"Is this who you are now? Is this the kind of person that you want to be?"

His eyes darkened at her disapproval. "This is the person that you left behind."

She couldn't hide the tears in her voice, the hurt on her face. "You_told _us to go. You _begged_ us to leave you alone."

Crimson eyes blinked once, twice. "So, I did." A slow sweep of lashes hid eyes that were starting to show too much. "Enough of the past, let's talk about the future. So, graduation, huh? What…"

"Ruka and I are engaged."

It shouldn't have hurt. It shouldn't have felt like a thousand hot needles digging into his skin, but it did. Natsume's hold on the blade tightened, but he forcibly slackened his hold.

"Congratulations. When is the wedding?"

She kept her eyes away from him. "Soon." She shouldn't have been feeling guilty, ashamed like she was betraying him or herself, but she did.

"Sorry if I can't make it to the wedding."

Her eyes came back to his, and she saw his eyes shifting away. Her heart twisted. "Natsume…"

"The wound." He cut her off. "You're forgetting the reason we're here."

She looked at him, decided to follow his lead, and took the knife by the handle, slightly wincing at the heat that radiated from it. "Are you sure you…"

"Stop stalling." Natsume closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and leaned his head back against the tree, readying himself for the oncoming pain.

But it was another kind of pain that answered the call.

His eyes snapped open when he felt her, sensed her. Helpless to resist, he opened his mouth and tasted her. Groaning into her opened mouth, he raised his right hand, gripped her hair, and devoured.

Love, he always thought, was just another pretty word for madness. And he_was_ mad, crazy and insane with it.

Because there was no other explanation for these feelings that raged inside him. No other reason why he still felt like this, even after eight long years. No other reason why he would be touching this woman like she was the very thing that he'd been searching for all his life…why, deep inside of him, he felt like she was the only answer to his many unanswered questions.

Drugged by the taste of her, his senses blinded by her, hungry for more, he didn't feel the hot knife that was pressed against his injured skin, causing it to sizzle and burn, closing the wound. He didn't feel the sting, the shock that should have made him scream in agony because another touch was burning him, scalding, bringing him pain that was bigger, deeper, more overwhelming. But it was a pain he'd rather feel than not...and one that ended all too soon.

Mikan pulled away, his fingers dragging along a strand of her hair, and gave him back his knife, her eyes lowered to the ground. She quickly dressed his wound, and then packed her stuff away. All the while very much aware of his eyes following her every move.

"Are you going to tell Ruka?"

Her hands twitched on her bag. "There's nothing to tell."

"Right. I hope you don't make a habit of kissing strange men and not telling Ruka. Even I know that's not a good way to start a marriage."

The slightly mocking tone in his voice was the last straw. She whipped her face towards him. "What do you care? You wanted to be alone. You didn't want to be with us. You threw us like we were soiled rags. So don't pretend like…"

She clenched her eyes tight when Natsume grabbed her nape and covered her mouth with his. He tasted her tears and lips in one long hard kiss, remembering again how it felt to be…happy. He wrapped his arms around her, held her close as if he meant to keep her in his arms forever. "Don't _ever_ think that I don't care. I _care_, damn it." _Maybe just a little too much._

He pulled her in tighter. "You and Ruka have to be happy, do you hear me? You're going to have a family, a happy home to fill with children and pets until you're old and grey." When she sobbed and hugged him back, he buried his face in her hair and breathed her in. "Promise me, oujo."

"I promise."

He shut his eyes tight, and then quickly pried himself away and stared at her. Her face was drenched with tears and he winced playfully. "God, I forgot how ugly you look when you cry. That's an image I'd rather not remember."

She gave a watery snort and punched his uninjured shoulder. When she just stood there and stared at him, he grasped her shoulders and turned her away. "Run and don't look back. Tomorrow, you'll be free."

Her feet followed his command and she didn't look back, even when she heard him whisper her name, right there, exactly where he said her name for the very first time. His voice whispering her name echoed in the night air.

She felt her heart expand with all the love she had for the boy she met when she was ten-years-old returning tenfold with every step she took just by the very mention of her name. She didn't need a declaration of love or fancy poems written in a skillful hand; she only needed him to say her name because in that one word laid the answer to her unanswered question.

He loves her.


	2. Possession

_...I would be the one to hold you down...kiss you so hard...I'll take your breath away..._

_...I tried to give you up, but I'm addicted... _

"Oh, man." Mikan Sakura, 17 years old, whined about the sudden torrent of rain that tore at the sky. She griped again when she stepped into a deep puddle and slipped into a deeper one leaving her shoes and socks a soggy mess, never mind that her ponytail was plastered onto her head. Meanwhile, her uniform draped heavily against her long slender body.

"Great. Just great." She hugged her school bag, trying to protect her books from getting wetter. The flashlight in her hand offered up a measly comfort in the darkness so that she managed to stop herself from ramming her forehead onto a tree. Stopping herself a mere inch from it, she found herself having to smother a nervous giggle.

It had been a long hard week.

She huffed out a hard breath and maneuvered delicately with her zero visibility, stopping once in a while to wipe the water out of her eyes and to grope her way. With her luck these last few days, she wouldn't be surprised if she slipped, knocked her head, fell unconscious, and died of exposure.

It was unnatural for her to be so down. Oh, she'd get her highs and lows like everybody else, but she never stayed down in a long length of time.

But she was alone, in the dark, cold, wet, and miserable. She was entitled to a few temper tears.

She blinked when a sudden shaft of light highlighted her way. The yellow moon was a fat bright circle in the sky .

The rain glinted silver in moonlight.

It was then when she saw him.

Natsume Hyuuga stood in the rain; still, straight, and silent.

She didn't know what he was doing until she saw the cloud of steam rising from his glistening naked upper body. It told her that he had his Alice on a low simmer; that he was slowly rising his inner temperature until eventually he'd burst into flames.

A technique that needed superior concentration, Alice stamina, patience, skill, and an understanding of one's Alice.

A technique that she knew he employed when he had something on his mind, something that he didn't want to think about, but was unable to put it off his mind.

She watched his close-eyed concentration; his low and even breathing.

He was always so intense, so focused on whatever he was doing; so persistently independent that she knew he probably didn't speak to Ruka about whatever it was that was bugging his mind.

And, it had been a long time since the last time he talked to her.

She fought off the feelings of resentment, the sting of betrayal, and the hurt that his abandonment gave her.

It had been three years since he cut off all ties to her, even their partnership.

The only saving grace for Mikan was that Natsume didn't bother to partner up with anyone else.

But it still stung.

And it certainly hurt more than she expected, more than it should have.

Never mind talking, he hardly even glanced at her and every time he ignored her, it was another spike into her heart.

Out of the blue, with no explanation.

It had been three years, but there was still no explanation.

She knew there was an explanation, and she knew he had to make sacrifices for the well being of others. It just so happened to be that one of those sacrifices was her.

She knew all of that.

But she still found it hard not be angry, to not feel betrayed, and worst of all, not to feel bitter.

And she hated herself for feeling the bitterness most of all.

What was he to her anyway? They were friends, nothing more.

But there was something, something she couldn't really grasp and never fully explored.

She just knew that bereft of it, she felt something was missing, and the funny thing was, she wasn't really sure that she had it in the first place.

A wave of unexpected fury born out of frustration and hurt swept over her like a thundering storm as she watched him, all calm and collected.

Warmed by her anger, she didn't notice that the rain had stopped or that she was no longer standing in the shadows.

Which was why she didn't expect it when his raven head turned, crimson eyes latching onto her as though he knew she was there all along.

She gasped when she saw them burn in the dark, and she felt the pulse of his power in the air, lashing at her, felt it reaching for her like invisible hands.

She felt her Alice respond in defense at the sudden intrusion and their Alices collided and fought for dominance.

She saw it in his eyes the minute he recognized her. She felt the jolt of surprise on her skin as he, in a rare moment of being caught off guard, lost control of his Alice, and it overwhelmed her, suffocated her in a blanket of heat before he finally regained control of it again.

She could almost hear him turning off his power with a soft click in her head.

Her senses were still slightly overwhelmed, short circuited when she saw him step towards her.

His long legs ate up the ground with fast determined steps and she was in half a mind to make a fast escape.

She opened her mouth to say something and choked on his heat, his presence, and her own ruined feelings about him actually acknowledging her for the first time in three years.

Crimson heat met anxious amber as thousands of scenes where they stood face to face like this passed through their minds.

Her heartbeat echoed loudly in her ears and she tried to figure out what to say, desperate to have him back in her life because somehow, though it hurt when he was close and ignored her, it hurt far too much when he was gone altogether.

She struggled to get her voice, to find the perfect words to say, but she found none.

Instead, she merely stared into his eyes and said the one word that made sense in a world of confusion.

"Natsume."

She saw his eyes flicker and narrow, his naked upper body tense, his shoulder tighten at the sound of her voice.

The seconds stretched on and ticked on forever until a sudden flash of thunder made Mikan jumped.

It was then that Mikan found herself pressed against an unyielding wall of flesh.

Unusually hot, unusually tense, she felt him grip her hair, tilt her head back so their eyes met once again, their faces within inches of each other, their breaths moist and hot on each other's skin, their wet bodies plastered against each other.

His red eyes swept her face and landed on her lips. Mikan was old enough to know what that look meant, to know what he wanted. Pure feminine distress crept up her spine as her body registered just how tall, bigger, and stronger he was.

At this, all she was certain of was that her mind was in shambles and that she suddenly wasn't cold anymore. Natsume's body heat was more than enough to warm them both.

And she wasn't particularly miserable either.

But then again, she was straining on her tip-toes, pressed close like nobody's business against the most hard-ass guy in school, one that ditched her three years ago without so much a goodbye.

The thought shocked her into action as she strained against his grip, but he only held her tighter, cutting her struggle short and finally moving in for the kill.

Mikan's arm muscles trembled when his mouth pressed aggressively against her soft one, just as firmly, as strongly as it did seven years ago when they were ten.

He was more skillful, more sure of himself and a small part of her wondered bitterly about where he got it.

Like everything else he did, every mission he went to, he plundered her mouth with a focus that bordered on obsession and an intensity that crossed the line over into madness. But she still felt that relentless rein he had on himself underneath his vibrating strength and she was both curious and afraid of what would happen if the strong control Natsume held over himself broke.

She let out a breath of surprise when she felt a large calloused hand slide up her naked back in a gesture that spoke of possessiveness and strength.

The breath entered Natsume's mouth as he rampaged hers, feasted on her lips, her hurried pants, her sighs, and stifled moans.

Mikan felt her face heat when she felt the hand underneath her shirt graze the strap of her bra, then slide down to fist at her skirt, then up again, dancing along her spine, curving her body into his. His fingers continued to thread in her hair, clenching on her skin as he attacked her mouth with desperate precision.

And she couldn't do anything to save herself, but drown in an ocean of sensation.

A low, deep, guttural groan erupted from Natsume's chest when in an anxious attempt to get her bearings, Mikan fixed her nails on Natsume's arms, marking his skin. In an act of retaliation, Natsume drew her bottom lip into his mouth and bit down.

Mikan's painful mewl was smothered with his tongue, chasing the taste of copper infused with the insistent prickle of lust.

Natsume ached all over, because of her, for her. _What was she thinking? Appearing in front of me like that; lost and wet._

_Didn't she know how dangerous it was for her to be wandering off alone?_

When he realized that it was her, he though he somehow nodded off to sleep and it was just one of those dreams...and he could do whatever he wanted in his dreams right?

There were no consequences, no repercussions in dreams.

Of course, it only took him a second to figure out that it wasn't a dream, but...they were alone, and it was dark.

How could he explain the need, that tempest that boiled inside of him just at the mere thought of her, the greedy desperation that grab hold of his insides at the sight, at the smell of her?

The endless war he fought when he was in her presence, the primal violence to take, to have, to make her his?

And if that wasn't maddening enough, underneath all that, running rampant inside of him, there was that undercurrent of a particular emotion that ran still, but steady.

And it took root far too deep, far too strong for him to yank it out.

And it was that undefined, naked, raw emotion that urged him to gentle his rough hands, to soften his lips, to lengthen his motions; to make them slower, softer. His hands held rather than gripped, his body sighed against hers rather than catching her captive. His mouth absorbed rather than possessed.

But he was no less strong, masterful, or sly.

It only made him even more dangerous.

Mikan's eyelashes fluttered when she felt the change in Natsume. She jerked, surprised, when his hand clenched on her nape, sending ripples of sensations across her spine. His thumbs brushed her cheekbones; the gesture too sweet, too caring that her lips softened just as her knees weakened.

His fingers ran along the length of her hair, and his fingertips touched along her skin, lulling her into submission.

When her body turned liquid against his, her fingertips sighed against his waist, Natsume shattered.

Her eyes opened when she was pushed roughly against a strong tree bark. A strangled scream slipped out of her throat when Natsume bit hard into the skin of her right shoulder, and then raised his mouth to her ear.

Mikan shivered at the feeling of his hot breath and at the low threatening note in his voice as he whispered into her ear.

The stinging pain in her shoulder gave her strength to push at Natsume. She pushed harder when she saw the mocking look in Natsume's eyes when he didn't move an inch. Embarrassed at her own helplessness and at how it was so easy for him to manipulate her emotions, she pushed at him again, but still he didn't budge. He only moved seconds later, only after he was sure that she knew she could go because he let her.

Natsume was always cocky and a control freak.

It was against her nature to run, but she was too confused and humiliated not to do so, so she ran like the hounds of hell were at her heels and only stopped when she was at her dorm hall.

Anger started to stomp away her embarrassment and she fanned at it so it would eat away at the gnawing feeling in her stomach. She took a deep cleansing air, but stomped her foot when she smelled him on her; heat, earth, rain.

She brushed her hands against her skin, trying to erase the feel of his hands, his skin, and his breath.

She yanked open her shirt, taking her temper out on the innocent garment, but she didn't feel any better when she caught a glimpse of herself from the full-size mirror in the corner of her room.

Her face was flushed with anger and embarrassment, her lips red and bruised, her hair was a mess, and there, on her right shoulder, was the clear imprint of Natsume's teeth.

He bit her.

He frickin' bit her.

She could still see his eyes boring into hers, and could still hear his calm even voice, lowered to a threat in a whisper.

_If you don't want to take things further, never let me catch you here again._

She stood in front of the mirror and watched the flaming flush rise to her cheeks at the implication of his words as she felt once again the suggestive movements of his hands and body upon hers.

Too humiliated and angry for words, she picked up a pillow and let out an angry screech.

Her breath spent, she let out an impressive tantrum while she pummeled on the same pillow.

It was only half an hour later when, exhausted, she finally crawled towards the bathroom for a hot, soothing bubble bath.

The last thing she needed was to get sick on top of it all.

It wasn't until she picked up the shirt that she tossed away, filled the tub with hot water, poured in a vanilla scented bath gel, slid out of skirt and underwear, slid into the tub, and sighed in pleasure that she realized something strange.

Something out of place.

Her amber eyes glided to the laundry basket and landed on the uniform she just got out of.

It was dry.

There was only one way that could happen.

He dried her clothes.

Natsume Hyuuga, royal badass, dried her clothes.

The realization drew her into a halt and it tickled her so much that she sat in her tub, looking at her laundry, her skin still bruised by his fingers with the hot water stinging the bite wound on her shoulder, and laughed.

She laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed until she could laugh no more.


End file.
